Drogo and The True Dragon
by RileyAnora
Summary: Raksha will do anything to protect her beloved little sister, Dany. Anything. And whatever gods those strange foreigners believed in help them if they thought they could stand in her way. No, they wouldn't. Raksha knows the truth. She knows she is the Dragon. If only Dany would see that the bastard child of the mad king was destined to rule and not her vile brother.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: But then you never think

Raksha

I walked silently across the grounds, my lips twitching into a snarl as I saw my sister and brother—I use the term loosely—waiting on the steps of the palace they were currently living in. _How dare_ he? Yalianis snarled. I narrowed my eyes just in time to see Viseryis snarl something at Dany, but on my foolish brother it looked more like he had a particularly bad twitch. By this time I was nearly upon them, and the man behind my siblings gasped and my brother whirled around to see me. "Oh, shit!" He swore, quite loudly I might add. I smiled wickedly and I felt Yalianis purr inside me. Her satisfaction and eagerness to kill would be disconcerting, maybe even scary in a different situation, but this man had threatened my family, threatened my baby sister. I wasn't entirely sure if the eagerness to kill was solely my Dragons. At the moment I arrived in front of my siblings, so did a group of very dangerous looking men, dressed in leathers and furs and riding horses. By their olive skin and long, dark braids I would call them a Dothraki. Suddenly, it clicked. Why I had felt Dany calling for my help, praying for me to save her. The Dothraki's horses were startled when I suddenly slammed into Viseryis, tackling him to the ground. I held his legs with my knees and both his wrists with one hand, my forearm across his neck. "So _this _was your great plan?" I asked. My Dragon nature seeped into my words, a disturbing mix between feline and reptilian. There was a hint of a snarl and the lingering trace of a hiss in my voice. Viseryis knew, now. He had royally pissed off a Dragon. Dany gasped and dropped beside me, frantically urging me to stop, and in the cacophony of noise between the foreigners yelling and the man trying to explain, accompanied with my sisters urging and my brothers struggling, I had had enough. I growled and rolled backwards into a roll, my brother stuck in a head lock, bent in half. Dany was weeping, looking completely distraught. "You," I growled at the man, "You will translate for me." He snapped to attention and nodded immediately. "Ask who the leader of this group is." The man did not hesitate a second before motioning to me and asking my question. A tall, proud man, with tree trunk arms and a braid longer than all the rest made a harsh noise in what I assumed to be his language but could have passed for the snarl of a mountain lion. The man said, "This is Khal Drogo. He is the leader of his herd." I scanned him over. In a one on one fight he would be a challenge, but only if I wasn't armed. I could beat him with a sword no doubt. "What exactly was his arrangement with my dear _brother?" _ I spat the word, the taste of it bitter on my tongue. This time the man did hesitate and he asked my question with a stutter. The man growled out another reply, and the man, now shaking, repeated, "Drogo was to take the princess as a wife, in return for the aid of his herd in Viseryis' quest to take back the iron throne." My lips twitched. Then my fingers. Sensing the hate and rage rolling off of me in waves, the horses the men rode in on startled and danced backwards. The men seemed uneasy. Yalianis thrashed inside her cage I kept her in. He was planning on sending Dany, sweet, innocent Dany, into the arms and bed a foreign man who will expect things she has never done before, expose her to things she would never dream of, let alone do? No. I wouldn't allow it. I roared, a fierce battle cry I saved for special occasions, and I slammed my fists into my newly released brother. He fell to the ground with a weak cry. I kicked him and snarled, my chest heaving with the intensity of my anger. "_Up."_ I commanded. I didn't raise my voice, but I had yielded to Yalianis, letting her take care of my family, and my voice resonated around the courtyard just as loudly as it would have if I had screamed. _"Now. Fight like a man and meet your end like a warrior. UP!"_ He stood shakily and struck out blindly. I caught his hand and twisted his arm behind his back. _"Now,"_ I purred, "_Prepare to face death,"_ I opened my mouth to reveal my now sharp teeth and hovered over his throat to let the message sink in. "Raksha!" Dany's voice pierced the silence like a sword, and I tensed as the transition from beast to woman occurred. I sighed, my breath causing the hair on the back of Viseryis' neck to stand up. I dropped him and he whimpered and scrambled away. "Yes, little hatchling?" I asked. The look of total confusion on the Dothraki people's faces—_They're still here,_-I noted with irritation, was probably due to the sudden change in my demeanor. The soft croon I reserved for loved ones was the exact opposite of my battle cry. "You can't kill him. We must go through with this deal! You mustn't harm the Dragon!" I sighed. After all this, she still refused to believe that I, the bastard child of the mad king, a mere slave girl could possibly be the Dragon. "You must understand, hatchling," I started, though I could already see the denial in her eyes, the determination to damn herself to a life she could in no way want, "this deal will not happen. I will not let you marry for anything other than love, and I will not let you lay with a man until you choose so. I swear it on the grave of my mother. Hells, I'll swear it on the grave of our mad father. I will not let you through with this." The man, who had been translating for me this entire time—_Idiot—_stuttered out this proclamation while shaking and crying, although he did have the self-control to keep from shitting himself where he stood. Drogo roared and said, in warbled and slaughtered common tongue-"No wife-No herd." Dany cried now, sobbing as she said, "I have to, Rak, I have to!" I shook my head. No. She wouldn't be able to handle this man with his strange customs and blood thirst. No. If he wanted a bride, he would get one. One hell of a bride indeed. I turned to my brother and said, "I will wed this Khal Drogo. On one condition. You will never touch a hair on Dany's head. Or I. Will. _Slaughter you."_ My brother nodded, fearful of what I would do to him if he refused. Drogo seemed to catch on and suddenly roared something in his tongue, and the translator said, "He is upset that you are not giving him what he came for." I leaned over and whispered into the translator's ear. He in turn whispered in mine. I thought this particular message would be best coming from me. "**Khal Drogo. If you are displeased because you think my body inferior to my little sister's I assure you I will more than suffice. If you are uncomfortable, because I pose much more threat to your masculinity and superiority over a mere woman that will be your wife than my sister, I must also assure you that I do not attack unprovoked. If you do not find abrasive women attractive, then I am afraid you are out of luck, because I have only ever been submissive to one man, and he was a mountain lion. Literally. If you can't get over your barbaric male pride enough to accept the offer as it stands, then I am afraid you are also out of luck, for I am a fierce warrior and a fast learner. Will you support my family in taking our throne back in exchange for my hand in marriage?" **I kept my face stoic, but inside I was hoping to death that I had not mispronounced anything. A slip of my tongue and I could actually be insulting his mother, and I didn't want to insult anyone any more than I already have today. Drogo and his men didn't say anything for a while. Neither did we. Then, without a word, Drogo turned and left, his men close behind. I turned to my brother and gave him a sinister smile before saying, "I doubt you thought anything like that could happen. I doubt you thought on this stupid little plan at all. But then, you never think do you…Brother?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-Silver Hair and Golden Eyes

Drogo

We pulled up to the prince and my bride to be in time to see a figure approach them as well. My bride was beautiful, no doubt, with white hair and blue gray eyes. She had an adequate body. But upon closer inspection I found that her face was that of a child's, and that disturbed me greatly. I would feel like a pedophile all throughout the consummation of our marriage. I was displeased already. That was a bad sign. Suddenly, with a move too quick for me to catch, what with my attention solely on the little princess, a figure slammed into the little prince they call dragon, causing our horses to all simultaneously act up. The dragon prince was pinned to the ground, held there by a woman with such a fierce predatory look on her face I knew she was ready to kill, and prayed to the Mountain Mother that if there was ever with her involved in it she would be on my side. She hissed something in the common tongue, a scathing sound that made both horse and rider uneasy. The little princess, who before had stood watching with her mouth hanging open, now dropped to her knees before the woman and begged her to stop, that much I understood. I shouted at the translator, wanting him to tell me what was going on. The girl was attacking the little prince. Shouldn't she be punished? Again, in a fast move the girl—woman, I can see now—rolled back and pulled herself up using only her core and stomach muscles, all with the dragon prince in her grasp. The little princess resorted to bawling her eyes out uselessly, though the effect it had on the woman was immediate and intense. The woman stopped fighting, and her eyes became worried, and soft. Then, she barked a command at the translator, and he reacted faster to her than he did to me. **"My Lady would like to know who the leader of this herd is," **he asked submissively. I ground out a swift, **"Khal Drogo." **The man parroted my sentence, and the woman scanned me over slowly. I felt myself, ridiculously, puff out my chest a little and flex my arms just slightly. The woman said something else, her eyes not leaving me. The man stuttered as he repeated the question. **"I was to take my wife, the little crying princess, in exchange for my support in taking back this iron chair." **When this was relayed to the girl, she did not seem… anything. She was stony faced, and silent, but the horses danced away from her, making my men uneasy. The woman seemed to ponder something for a short moment. All was silent. Then, piercing the twilight like a dagger, a battle cry, a noise that will haunt me to the rest of my days, stay with me while I am asleep at night. For the first time in my life I was scared. It didn't help that it was of a strange foreigner woman. She drove her closed fists into his face until his nose was broken and he had wounds that would scar him. When he fell to the ground, we got a look at her face and we all subconsciously leaned away from the sight of her. She was feral, absolutely animalistic. She snarled some words to him that resonated from deep within the chest of the seemingly normal woman. The translator spoke quickly, seemingly afraid to stop doing what she had told him to do. "She said, 'Up. Now! Fight like a man and meet your end like a warrior,'" he swallowed thickly before continuing, "'Now, prepare to die.'" Suddenly, the fight was over, and the woman had her sharp looking teeth poised over the prince's throat. Was she really going to rip out his throat, with just her teeth? The small princess cried something, a name, "Raksha!" The woman flinched, sighing. Her teeth dulled and her grip relaxed as she dropped the little prince on the floor. The woman addressed the princess, and they proceeded to have a conversation in which the princess attempted to reason with the warrior woman, and the woman refused to give me what I came here for. When the translator repeated to me that I would not get my bride, I roared, drawing attention to myself. In the language they spoke I spat, "No wife-No army." I needed a wife to be the true Khal, and having the Seven Kingdoms as an ally would do my herd well, especially if the king owed his power to me. The warrior woman turned to the whiny prince—that name suit him perfectly—and said something. Whatever it was, it made the whiny prince pale and panicked. Surprisingly, the woman spoke in Dothraki, her pronunciation almost perfect. "Khal Drogo. If you are displeased because you think my body inferior to my little sister's I assure you I will more than suffice. If you are uncomfortable, because I pose much more threat to your masculinity and superiority over a mere woman that will be your wife than my sister, I must also assure you that I do not attack unprovoked. If you do not find abrasive women attractive, then I am afraid you are out of luck, because I have only ever been submissive to one man, and he was a mountain lion. Literally. If you can't get over your barbaric male pride enough to accept the offer as it stands, then I am afraid you are also out of luck, for I am a fierce warrior and a fast learner. Will you support my family in taking our throne back in exchange for my hand in marriage?" I kept my face blank, but on the inside I raged. This woman had a lot of nerve, speaking to the mighty Khal Drogo like that. Well, she was right, her body was much better than her younger sisters. She was curvaceous with large breasts and full, round, child bearing hips. She was tall, though not nearly as tall as I. Yes, she would _much _more than suffice. She posed no threat at all towards my superiority, this foreign woman with the strange clothes. As for the abrasiveness being unattractive, that was the opposite actually. The Dothraki women were submissive to their men, bold and outspoken women were few and far between. Bold women who were fierce warriors were the sexiest thing any Dothraki man could think of. The mountain lion comment was strange, but also promising. The woman was obviously used to being the dominant in all situations, and it would prove very interesting to keep her around. Besides. What harm could one princess do to an entire herd of Dothraki?

~()~()~()~()~()~()~

We rode back to our camp to make sure all the preparations for my bride were ready. I mulled over her strange looks while we traveled. She did not have the white hair that her other siblings shared. Her hair was silver, not gray, but not white, with thick tresses that hung around down to her waist with looser curls than her siblings. Whereas her siblings had had blue/gray eyes, she had startling gold orbs, that seemed to glow within themselves. They were flecked with darker bits of brown, and I could tell that our son would have beautiful eyes. Her nose was small and straight, her lips much more full than a Dothraki woman's. She was beautiful, and where her face would be delicate on anyone else, she moved with an aura of power, a sureness in herself that I had only seen on the best of the blood riders. She will make a good Khaleesi, of that I was sure. Mago made the first comment, saying, "Well, your new bride is a spitfire, that's for sure." Qotho snickered across from him, saying, "Are you sure you are going to be able to handle her? You could always give her to us first, to break her in for you." I snarled, both at the suggestion that I was too weak, and at the thought of sharing my wife. "She will be mine, and no one else's." I saw the camp ahead, and with a swift squeeze of my heels, sped up my stallion Sebesseg. The others followed closely behind me. The women and men left behind were starting to cook the feast for tonight. I nodded to myself, yes, the feast would be delicious. I thought back to the actions of the woman whom I was supposed to marry. I thought of my father Harcos, and how much he would have like her, this woman who fought so fiercely to protect her younger sister. She was a fighter, with a wild, true warrior spirit. There was something about her that drew me to her like a moth to a flame, drew a reaction out of me that no other woman had been able to before now. There was something strange in her that called to me, appealed to me in s primal way. It was then that I swore to myself, I would figure out what exactly it was that drew me to the woman with silver hair and golden eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3-I Would Like To Dance

Raksha

Our ride to the Dothraki camp was quick and silent. When we arrived there was a feast waiting for us. My eyes lit up at the prospect of food. I urged my horse a little faster, dismounting while still in motion. I kept us walking until I reached the post that the other horses were tied to. I waved off the woman who offered help and tied her there myself, allowing her enough room to graze. I slung her bridle over my shoulder and carried the saddle to the woman. She took it from my hands with a smile, as I nodded my thanks. I turned to survey the area. There was a large table on the far left, and in the middle a cleared space. On the right there were many huts. Staring out at the cleared space there were two throne-like chairs, with two smaller chairs on either side. Drogo and the others pulled up, and a translator that had been brought for me introduced himself. "I am Jorah Mormont. I will be your translator tonight." I smiled and thanked him. "Enjoy your feast, my lady."

*..*..*..*..*..*..*..*

I sat in the throne next to Drogo, watching as a few men started playing drums. Many started dancing, others talking to each other. There was a little girl, sitting by herself and drawing in the dirt with a stick. I watched her for a second before turning to Jorah, tapping his shoulder. I whispered in his ear, "What is the name of that little girl?" He followed my eyes to the small girl, saying, "That is Arva. She is an orphan. Her father died in battle and her mother during her birth." I studied her a second longer. She could not have been more than three years old. "Arva!" I called. The little girl looked up, startled by the shout of her name. I smiled my nicest smile, crooking my finger at her and motioning her over. She stood slowly, toddling over to me. I reached down and hefted her up onto my lap. She squealed in surprise and I sat her down, holding her hands to keep her steady. I waved at her, a universal signal for 'hello'. She giggled and grabbed my fingers. I wiggled them at her and she smiled, putting her hand on top of mine. My hands were so large and calloused compared to her small, soft, dimpled ones. I nodded, saying, "Yours will be as big as mine one day, maybe even bigger. I only hope yours remain so soft." I pulled her head towards mine and rubbed our noses together, something my mother had always done to me throughout my childhood. She beamed, and I set her back down, directing her toward the woman who waited for her with a strange look in her eye. I shrugged at Jorah. I was then presented with dragon eggs, my wedding present I presume. They were so beautiful, and Yalianis stirred within me when I saw them. I turned my attention to the dancers on the clearing. The beat of the drum was infectious, and as I watched the rhythmic way the women moved to the sound of it I was overwhelmed with the need to move. I watched for a few more minutes, not the isolation in which the hips moved and the torso stayed still. Yalianis purred, liking the idea of dancing in such a sensual way. I turned to Jorah and said, in a matter of fact way that threw him off, "I would like to dance."

(To see dance copy and paste Belly Dance Clips - Sadie - رقصشرقى on youtube.)

*..*..*..*..*..*..*..*

Jorah gaped for a while, and then repeated my sentence to Drogo. Drogo furrowed his eyebrows and said something. But I didn't stay sitting long enough to hear what exactly he said. I walked slowly to the dance floor and watched the women again for a moment before experimentally moving my hips. I popped my chest once. I did it again. I closed my eyes and ignored the feeling of everyone's eyes on me. I let Yalianis flow through me, and we joined as one. I gasped slightly as the beat of the drum became my heartbeat. I let my body move as it wanted, flowing like water, moving with the drum. "Faster," I whispered. "Faster!" The drum picked up speed and still I moved with it. I let my senses go completely numb. I was the beat of the drum, that's all there was in the world. By the time the song ended I was panting and smiling, feeling happy and fulfilled. I loved this type of dancing, and if I ever had a say in it, that would happen often. I looked at the stunned face of Drogo, though he hid his surprise better than the rest of his herd. I slowed my breathing and asked, "So, how was I?"

*..*..*..*..*..*..*..*

Among the clapping, laughter and comments of praise that Jorah hurried to translate for me, the happiness came to an abrupt end when my _darling _brother decided to make his presence known. "Well, Raksha, it seems that all you needed to do to familiarize yourself with the barbarians was dance like a whore," he sniffed pompously. My eyes flashed and I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself from killing him for Dany's sake, who had sat looking completely scandalized through this whole event. "Raksha is not a wh-whore," Dany stammered, blushing at the foul word in her mouth. I smiled at her, turning from my brother to see Arva standing with her arms outstretched, waiting to be picked up. I smiled and pulled her to my hip, rubbing noses with her briefly. Drogo came forward with a beautiful mare. I set Arva down and approached the horse carefully. She was beautiful, without a doubt, white with grey spots covering her hindquarters. I brought my hand up to her nose and she lipped me. I smiled and turned to Drogo, who seemed pleased that I liked his gift. Drogo lifted me clear off the ground, and in my surprise I gripped his forearms. He set me on the horse and mounted his own. Together, we rode to the foreign land where I would lose my long clung to innocence.


	4. Chapter 4 AN

Anne,

I'm sorry if you found my story 'hard to read', as you said. Viseryis is a weakling, her being able to physically overpower him is not all that unrealistic, if you remember, Viseryis was taken down by a slap from Dany. As for Raksha being a 'mary sue' I will explain later in the story. She has by no means had her powers handed to her. I also hope that later when I explain Raksha's upbringing you will understand why she is so brash in an age where men own their women. If you don't like my story, I would suggest you simply stop reading it. Constructive criticism is always accepted, but your rudeness and blatant contempt for my story, and consequently me, as an author, is not appreciated.

Thank you for your _lovely _review, RileyAnora.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4-Tonight, I Would Look Upon Your Eyes

The ride was silent, and awkward. I could tell that Drogo was in deep thought, and I thought to myself about what was going to happen in a few short minutes.

It was traditional for the Dothraki men to take their women like dogs do. A horrid way to put it, and a horrid way to think of losing one's virginity. I had held my innocence for twenty three summers, a lot longer than any of the women I grew up around.

I smiled bitterly, remembering where I grew up, exactly. My first few years of life were spent in a whorehouse.

I remember the women, busty, beautiful. I remember how most of them sobbed into their pillows late at night, coming to breakfast the next morning with fresh bruises.

In the best cases nothing happened, maybe a bruise here and there. In the worst, we got a message the next morning that the body of one of our women had turned up dumped in the ditch somewhere, beaten to death. I was too young to understand why they _stayed _or why they didn't just say no. I remembered that conversation clearly.

I had been eight summers old, still childish and innocent—Well, as innocent as one can be, living in a whorehouse. I had asked my mother and her best friend, who was braiding my mother's hair that evening, "Why do you let them hit you?"

The woman, who's name was Crissa, had snorted, shaking her head, and my mother shushed her quickly, though I still remember the bitter defeated look on the woman's face. "It's not a woman's place to say no to a man, Sha-Sha. Especially not a whore's."

I remember being confused, because boys were only different because they were stupid, but that wasn't really _they're _fault, was it? "Why?"

My mother sighed, and patted my head gently, saying, "Women are weaker than men, sweetie. Men work, and go to war, and we women stay at home and take care of the children. It's just the way things are, dear."

I wrinkled my nose, thinking about all the times I had beaten Jonathon when we wrestled. I remembered all the times I had beaten up boys in the alleys for picking on the little kids. I remembered all the boys I had outsmarted when I played with the other kids. _I'm not weaker than them, _I thought. _And what does she mean it's not a woman's _place_ to say no? _I had shrugged and scampered off.

Later, when I was twelve years old, I came home late one night from playing with my best friend, Analise. I tip-toed up to my mother's room, ready to tell her goodnight. I paused as I saw a man, naked as the day he was born, beating my mother with his leather belt. My hand flew to my mouth and I bit my hand to keep from screaming. Mother had told me, that the only rule above all else, was to never interfere while she was working. Ever. Tears streamed down my face as I heard her pitiful noises. The man chanted, over and over, "Whore! Filthy whore! What are you going to do about it, woman? Huh? Woman! Whore!" That was the exact moment that I swore to myself, shaking and crying, my hand now gushing blood, that I would never let a man own me. No man would ever treat me like that. In my opinion, men were scum, woman-beaters who only ever thought of killing and fucking. In my mind, they were animals whom women had let take over. It would not happen to me.

My mother died the next week, and I was sent to live with my father, whom I had never met, and my two siblings, Viseryis and Daenerys. I shook my head silently, thinking of the fate that awaited me.

He would not dominate me tonight. It would not happen. I knew very well of the one power that all women held over men, and I had learned to use it in my favor, when all else failed. I couldn't use Yalianis tonight, I had used her so much that I was exhausted. We dismounted, and looked out at the sea together. Drogo tied up the horses, who grazed happily, and I gazed at them longingly wishing I could be so unaware of what was happening right now.

I could feel Drogo behind me, and he pushed down the straps of my loose dress. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for what was going to happen. He turned me towards him, and lifted my chin to look at him. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him down, his look of confusion speaking louder than any words. "Tonight," I said slowly, trying to relay the message with my eyes, and praying to god he understood, "I would look upon your eyes."


	6. Chapter 6

A few weeks after we had Viseryis' sword had been at my throat, we were camped at a different location. Dany had been realising slowly that Viseryis couldn't lead an army if my husband handed him one. The thought of Viseryis on the iron throne disgusted me. The only power Viseryis would ever have over me was that it would kill Dany to see him executed.

All the same, I couldn't let him get away with such acts much longer. I looked down as the hands that had been roaming my body stopped. The slave-girl was tailoring my outfit. She stopped with a barely audible gasp. "Khaleesi," she stuttered. "Your belly swells. Your breasts are bigger. Khaleesi, when was your last moon-blood?"

I froze as I scrambled to think. _One, two, three…seven weeks. Seven weeks since my last moon-blood. _I placed my hand over my stomach, my heart beating so hard and so fast that I was sure it would burst from my chest. "Pregnant."

(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)

Drogo POV

I looked over at the children around me playing, almost smiling, but catching myself beforehand. I crossed my arms over my chest, thinking about what my own child would be like. Raksha, my beautiful wife, with eyes like gold and hair like silver, she would be getting pregnant soon, I am sure. I did smile at the thought of just how hard I'd tried to make that happen.

She was a fighter in bed, growls and mewls slipping from her lips while she battled for dominance. It was a struggle, truthfully. She was the strongest woman I have ever met. She wasn't nice about it, either. She bit, and clawed, later soothing the stinging wounds with her tongue.

The mystery of what drew him so much to her was unravelling, slowly but surely. She was so strong, so fierce, but still so kind. I had found that she was weak in the face of children and weakness. She twisted in impossible ways for the safety of the herd, all of its inhabitants, including the slaves, as he'd found.

_Drogo rode forward steadily, the sway of his horse beneath him comforting. He usually ignored the cries of children and slaves behind him. But when all of his herd cried out at once, he turned more quickly than the eye can see._

_ Raksha stood, her eyes stone cold, her arm dripping blood in front of her. There was a whimpering slave-boy behind her, clutching the back of her skirt with dirty hands. _

_ "You will not. Strike. Children." She spoke Dothraki in the most peculiar way, the sound rolling off her tongue with an oddly appealing accent. She dd not shout. She did not raise her voice above a normal speaking tone. But she commanded obediance in a way Drogo hadn't heard since his grandfather was alive. _

_ The warrior who's whip had bit into the perfect milky skin of Drogo's wife paled, stammering and dropping his whip. "Do you understand me?"_

_ Still the stammering continued, and Raksha roared. "Do you UNDERSTAND?"_

_ "Yes, Khaleesi! I understand!" _

_ "Good."_

Iwas slowly falling in love with the strange woman, the more I get to know her. She knew much about my past, more than most. A slave woman rushed towards us, and I recognized her as Raksha's handmaid.

"Khal Drogo," she panted. "it is the Khaleesi. She carries your child."

(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)

Raksha POV

I looked up as Drogo entered the room. His face was impassive but in his eyes there was excitement and happiness. I felt myself melt as he dropped to his knees in front of me. He grabbed my hips and nuzzled my stomach. I looked down at his face, swallowing down my fears about having children at the look on his face.

I knew then, as I played with the end of his braid. I was more than in danger of falling in love with Khal Drogo. I was halfway to the ground.

(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)~(*)

"My son. What shall we name him?" Drogo again had his face pressed to my stomach, not very far from where it had just been. I ran my fingers through his hair, out of its braid for once. I sighed, my eyes fluttering closed at the feel of him rubbing circles into my hip.

"Rheago," I smiled as I said it. "Rhea, if it turns out to be a girl."

Drogo looked as if he was personally offended at the suggestion. "He will be a boy."

I raised a single eyebrow, asking, "Why so sure?"

Drogo growled and pinned me to the mat with his body. "He will be a boy. I just know."

I smirked and pulled his head down to mine, our lips just barely brushing. "Whatever you say, Drogo."

He growled and nipped at my lips, catching my mouth in a forcefull kiss. I fought as hard as I could, tongues battling, hands grabbing. I could taste myself on his lips. The combined taste of Drogo and my essence was almost too nmuch to bear. I rolled us over swiftly, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists above us. He broke the hold with dificulty, running his hands down my sides.

All coherent thoughts were lost as we attacked each others bodies in a flurry of teeth and tongue, hands and nails. Our limbs tangled, and his pitch black hair mixed with my silver in the most beautiful way.

Somehow I ended up pinned to the wall, my head thrown back in ecstacy for the third time, Drogo nipping at my neck. I panted, my breasts heaving, coming down from my high. Drogo captured one rosy bud, tugging it between his teeth. I pulled him up by his hair, tilting his head back until I could kiss him passionately. Drogo came violently, roaring a battle cry of his own.

Wrapped up with each other, sweat covered and exhausted, we fell asleep, our intertwined hands resting on my swollen stomach.


	7. AN

Yay! I'm going to apologize for several things;

First and foremost, for the fact that my computer is being stupid and I couldn't update for a ridiculous amount of time, sorry!

Secondly, I'm new to writing and to fanfiction in general, so, excuse my little screw-ups.

Thirdly, I've tried to remove the AN, I don't know how! I'm sorry that it's become such a big deal, but again, I'm a new writer, and kind of sensitive about my pieces. I put the story up for you to enjoy, maybe for some advice on how to make my writing better. If you don't like it you don't have to read it. I'm truly sorry for the whole thing to everyone, including my other readers and reviewers. Thank you all for reading my story, and update will be up this week!


End file.
